


A Study in Rope

by jedisagefish



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Breathplay, Gen, Self-Bondage, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:25:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedisagefish/pseuds/jedisagefish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is fifteen years old and usually bored, until he develops an obsession with rope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Rope

It had started out as an experiment, but it turned out to be a whole lot more than that. From time to time things like that happened, but never quite like this. He’d been in dangerous situations before, though. Yet, he couldn’t honestly say he’d engaged in anything quite as complexly dangerous as this.

Sherlock, barely fifteen years old, had found himself a new hobby of sorts. An obsession, really. When bored easily it was difficult to find a good distraction. School was dull, so no challenge there. Then there was the occasional game he played, that always ended as useless as the previous one. No one would listen to him anyway, he was just a boy. He might have some information on a case that interested him, but he never got round to doing anything with it. People didn’t care what he had to say.

So, that left him to make his own games. Quite literally.

First it had started out as a simple test. What did particular wounds look like. What exactly was the imprint left by rope tied around ankles? What changes did struggling bring to the wounds? What types of rope were there and how did they affect the skin?

He’d become rather skilled at knotting the rope in all kinds of interesting ways. Ways in which they’d be easily unknotted if you knew how, ways in which they were almost impossible to unknot, ways in which they were difficult to bind, tight, secure, impossible to undo… And then the best of them all, easy to slip tight and almost impossible to get free of.

This was his favourite for obvious reasons…

The constructions of rope continued to advance every day. He was almost prepared to try everything. He realized he’d started to become less interested in the wounds, than in the game itself. Well, he wasn’t going to complain. In fact he hadn’t had this much fun in a long time.

He’d barricaded the door, to ensure he couldn’t be interrupted or walked in on. After he’d ensured there really wouldn’t be a way of opening the door he stepped to the centre of his room. He looked up at the ceiling, where he’d secured a hook. A hook that could be set to release on a timer. Very convenient. He set to work, securing the rope to the hook and letting the slip knot he’d made hang from it. The image was vulgar to say the least, but he liked it regardless. The lose end of the rope he fastened to a rope already bound into two hoops that he would be able to pull tight around his wrists. After that he wouldn’t be able to unfasten it, much like the rope around his neck. And then it would be a matter of perseverance. His arms would be behind his back and he would have to stand on his toes to ensure he didn’t pull on the noose too hard. He would also have to keep his arms high up on his back, to make sure the noose wouldn’t be too tight around his neck. He’d reckoned he’d be able to keep that up for a good twenty minutes until it would become exhausting, then he’d probably be able to hold it another ten, before his muscles would be giving in and he would start choking. So, half an hour it was.

At the start it was always easy. Like he hadn’t done a good enough job with the rope and the tightness of it. Like it was too lose, too boring and dull, but it was something he shouldn’t let himself be tricked into believing. Much alike all the previous tries he’d done, this one too became excessively more difficult to keep up.

He couldn’t be sure how much time had passed as he always hid away every clock and object that could tell him the time. The curtains drawn shut to effectively keep the sunset out of view. He’d say about five minutes had passed when his legs were starting to feel shaky. Not shaky enough for balance to become particularly hard, but shaky enough to make him feel somewhat fearful for the rope around his neck. First he always revelled in that feeling of fear, that would at some point turn into panic, before he’d have to calm himself down again to ensure the situation didn’t get too dangerous. He’d become rather good at the whole ordeal.

Still, the element of surprise remained. He could never be absolutely certain what would happen. He could never know for sure that he’d be unharmed. Well, the muscle ache was inevitable and the rope would leave its marks, but that was a gift. That wasn’t harm that lasted. That wasn’t the harm that he should actively try to avoid. He could suffocate like this, he was aware, but that was why it thrilled him so. And that thrill was worth it.

His hands were starting to feel lightly numb, but not numb enough to be overly uncomfortable. His shoulders were tensed, in an attempt to make it easier to keep his hands up on his back. The rope around his neck was still just a threat now, but it felt good. He could breathe freely, but the slight press against his airway made him doubt it constantly. What if in a minute or so he wouldn’t be able to breathe anymore? He still had a long way to go, he thought, and his body was starting to feel less in his control. He tried to stretch his fingers in an attempt to get the blood running again, but the rope was just a bit too tight. That felt good, but painful and scary at the same time. His skin would be raw and before the half hour was over his hands would have gone numb entirely. No matter, it wouldn’t leave permanent damage. The question was, though, how he would be able to keep his arms up if they started to fall asleep…

He was still balancing on his tip toes, ignoring the strain that had on his ankles and legs after the time he’d been standing like it increased. Slowly the amount of time that had passed became more abstract and less tangible. His world began to consist out of perseverance, restraint and pain, accompanied by all the thrills that brought with it. It was terrifying and wonderful at the same time. Oh, he wasn’t bored. He wasn’t bored at all.

His breathing was speeding up, as he had continuously more difficulty to ignore the pain. Keeping balance became harder with his muscles slowly going into fatigue. But surely it wouldn’t take much longer. The rope around his neck pulled tighter as his feet gave in for a second. He groaned, quickly standing up again. It took a moment for the rope to slip open again to allow breath to pass his airway once more. He breathed in deeply the moment he could, fearful that his legs would give again, as they were surely more shaky than they’d been before.

His shoulders hurt, his arms felt tensed to the point where he wouldn’t be able to keep his arms up. The undersides of his feet felt warm with the strain he forced them into and his neck was hurting for obvious reasons.

He gasped in between soft groans and sharp intakes of breath. It truly shouldn’t take much longer. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it much longer… That was exactly what he did it for, wasn’t it? Twenty minutes might have passed. He hoped so… The outlook of ten more minutes like this was already quite enough to get his heart racing. This was dangerous and suddenly it felt dangerous.

Then the thought popped up; he shouldn’t have done this. The panic started to spread through his body, making it momentarily easier to keep the pose, as adrenaline energies him, gave him that sudden burst of energy to keep holding on. But it wouldn’t last him through the remaining minutes and once it had faded… the true struggle began.

He wanted it to stop, now. This was already enough of a struggle, without having to go through an unknown amount of time at the other end of this severe panic, that would soon become very real indeed. A fight to stay alive. He should have known better than to try breath play… Asphyxiation had been fatal in many situations like this one and who was Sherlock really fooling when he confidently set these scenarios up. He had no experience and all his knowledge came from hypothesises. Sure, over time he’d managed to test quite a few theories, but this obsession with asphyxiation was all new and he knew fairly little about it.

His heart was beating fast and there was nothing he could do to calm down, even though he knew it would be essential to make the remaining time durable. The fear was too strong and it overpowered his logic. This was what he did it for, but the moment it happened he wished he’d never started. It was a paradox of sorts and he was an addict.

Sherlock’s eyes had shut and after some involuntary tugs on the rope around his wrists, that had only resulted in the tightening of the rope around his neck he managed to stop his panic induced struggle to a minimum. His feet, he had to focus on. He had to make sure he could keep standing. He lifted one foot off the ground, while balancing on the other. It was difficult, but at least this way he could stimulate the blood flow. He did the same with his other leg, before having both feet on the ground again and continuing his painful restraint. Now his arms. He let them hang, relieving his shoulders of the tenseness they’d been under. Holding his breath, as the rope was tight around his neck he waited. He counted to ten, before slowly moving his shoulders up again, tensing them again and his arms along with it, letting the rope around his neck loosen enough for him to take another breath. He continued to alternate between the two throughout the coming few minutes, but his legs were burning as his muscles were at the end of what they could handle.

He’d be falling soon and he should be prepared for it when it happened. Perhaps he’d be able to push up again, but perhaps not. How long would it be still? Five minutes? Maybe more?

His left leg gave in before his right did and it gave him just enough warning to breathe in deeply, before the rope restricted his airways, disallowing him breath. His legs were throbbing with the pain the restrain had caused in his muscles. But right now that wasn’t the worst of his problems.

No, the rope painfully tight around his neck was. His mouth opened in an attempt to regain some breath, but it was useless. As if he was drowning, he tried to push himself up onto his toes, desperate for another take of air. He breathed out and in quickly once he had the chance and it was a good thing he had done so, for his legs gave in a second later.

His struggle continued and no matter how he tried to organize it, in the end it was a fight of time against perseverance and his fear was definitely not making it an easy one. He tried to push himself up onto his toes over and over again, just for another intake of breath, but it became impossible rather quickly.

How much time was there left? How much longer was he going to have to do this?

He was in pain, but the pain no longer mattered. He was terrified for the uncertainty. He shouldn’t have chosen to keep this up so long. He should have started out slowly. He should have run more tests, before he got himself in this situation he couldn’t get out of until the hook would release the rope and drop him to the ground. He could only hope it was in time.

He was shaking, panicking, struggling and choking and all the while he tried to make himself believe it was just one more minute, just a few more seconds. It would end soon. It really would end soon.

The dizziness was starting to become so severe that darkness was eating away at the corners of his vision. No, no, not yet. If he passed out he wouldn’t be able to call out for help. That was seriously his last resort, but he would try if he had no other options. Don’t pass out, he told himself. Just one more minute.

Just one more minute.

He made an attempt at a scream the moment he’d planted his feet on the ground again and was pushing himself up, but nothing came out, he could barely breathe in. His sight was spinning and soon it would be too late.

And the following moment he was falling to the ground, onto his knees and then onto his side. He breathed in deeply, gasping for the much needed air that he’d been unable to get. He’d made it. He was still alive.

And as that thought registered he was smirking, laughing between coughing, feeling absolutely ridiculous for what he put himself through, while at the same time knowing that nothing would ever feel quite so good.


End file.
